YES! The Artist Speaks

From a reception for local donors to The New Vision Heron Mural:

I’d like to begin with one word, because that is how this project and everything associated with it began.  It’s a small word, but a beautiful and powerful word:  YES! 

When we say “Yes” individually, doors open and change begins.  Being in agreement with an idea, a statement, or proposal means that it goes forward with our blessing. 

When Lee Whaley said, “Yes, I will pursue having the heron mural redone”, the idea went forward in strength; blessed with her skill and experience.  And look where we are! 

When I said, “Yes, I will do the mural”, it opened up 3 years of experience:  From research and design to committee approval, online crowd source fundraising, and fabrication;  Then press coverage as well as getting to write my own guest blog article.  It meant mounting an accompanying exhibit, not to mention reconnecting with my past…everything made possible by one word. 

It’s one word, but it has needed many voices. 

When we collectively say, “Yes”, WE create opportunity.  WE empower those who are asking to make something happen—WE are in agreement with the happening of an idea, and are instrumental in its formation, it’s becoming a reality. 

“Yes” extends our world.  It expands our reality.  It creates possibility.  It unleashes the power to get results.  It represents a decision, a course of action, and a responsibility.  

The responsibility to honor those who agree to support, because now your sound judgment goes on display—the responsibility to verify your support AS SOUND JUDGEMENT.  

Thank you for your support.  Thank you for your affirmation.  Thank you for YOUR vision. 

When you drive by your mural think about this.  Think “YES” for your town, your downtown, and for what might present itself next.  Now you’ve got some experience with the power of your support.  It’s the power of your choice, your voice, your vote. 

You gave me an opportunity by saying “Yes”, and now we stand together with a new vision-- in a new vision.  Thank you for your confidence…it has been a soul changing experience.

Here's the video of the presentation.

Additionally, here's a link to a guest blog post I was invited to write for Artsy Shark about public speaking for artists:

http://www.artsyshark.com/2014/07/22/public-speaking-for-artists/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+artsyshark%2FNCiC+%28ArtsySharkFeed%29

http://jtnwdc.wix.com/jamesthatcherarts

Getting ReStarted in the Studio

Starting Over.

So it’s been awhile, maybe more than a while since you were in the studio.  You’ve gotten used to not making artwork.  You’ve been filling the time but the nagging thoughts don’t leave you…. 

START SMALL.  Baby steps, right?  Not 18” x 24”, not 11” x 14”, I mean small.  Tiny.  I used 3” x 5” file cards when I restarted, but you could cut that in half. 

START FAST.  This is low impact, low risk, and low investment.  This is production time.  Don’t get bogged down in details.  Fill the space and move on.  Do another.  Do five.  Let them be awful.  They’re miniscule anyway—who cares!?

START NOW.  Use what you have.  I had file cards.  If all you have is 11” x 14 paper, then cut it smaller.  Let that be a part of your process.  Don’t cut up tomorrow’s pieces today; let yourself have a place to start when you get back into the studio tomorrow.  I had to prime the next days 3” x 5” cards at the end of the session so that I didn’t bog down waiting for it to dry the next day.  It became a wind down activity as well as a wind up activity. 

I did 5 cards a night for many nights.  For many nights they were not good.  Don't allow yourself to be discouraged.  You're not looking for masterpieces or to put together an exhibition.  All you're doing is starting over in the studio.

These 5 little paintings took an hour to produce each night.  Eventually they would become models for larger works.

They became the start of a body of work which has been in production for 25 years. 


Do you have a restarting story or strategy?

Wedding toast, November 2, 2013

Joe and Laura,
I love your story and tell it regularly.  Modern love in the Facebook age, a couple of crazy kids from the seventies….and as I know you’ve told everyone:  who knew, at 15 years old, what such a future would hold? 

But who would want to? 

Would anyone have taken the road they chose, if they knew where it would lead?

 Wouldn’t we just sit and wait for that destination, and then miss it, because we’d never even begun our own journey?  The joy of life is the intersections of our paths, whether those crossing trails are professional, personal or our eventual partners.


As we join forces, the road becomes wider:  busier, with more notable destinations.  Education, Career, Family…and then we take an exit, perhaps without even signaling; sometimes slamming on the brakes to the curses of those around us.  Sometimes reading the signs and getting into the turn lane, signaling to everyone our intentions.

We pull off and then wonder, “Hmmm…is this the right road?  I don’t see any sign…did you see a sign?”  Some may stop and ask directions, some will retrace their steps and return back to the previous road, some will forge on whether certain or not of the turn they’ve taken.

And some…some, without question or hesitation hit the gas.

Guess who we are toasting today?  Full speed ahead, to Joe and Laura!

ARTIST'S STATEMENT

Jesus said that out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.  I believe this and extend it to all communication, including visual art.  The random techniques of Abstract Expressionism and Surrealism express directly the joie de vivre abundant within me by the Holy Spirit.  

However, in recent pieces imagery is reduced to panels of texture, bridging into a gritty form of Minimalism.  Whether chunky or slick, the materials are being emphasized and are more expressive in spite of the paintings increasingly stoic forms. 

I edit heavily.   I pile on paint and thickly textural elements like leaves, grasses or bark.  The latest works feature hay from my dairy barn studio and cat tails gathered from marshes in upstate New York.  I use local elements as a way of assimilating my environment and regional culture. 

After embedding these elements into the paint I scrape off what I can.  Of what remains, I isolate the lines and shapes that are the essence of the chaotic underpainting.  The experience and process of this discovery motivates my creative urge.  I look for surprise in materials, process and imagery, as surprise is the beginning of delight!

Here's the latest!

 

Extenuating Circumstances and Life.

I once had an 8 year long break between artworks.  I've also had stretches of sporadic art production, grinding out stuff as I've been able to cram it into spare time, doing maybe a dozen measly, incoherent pieces in a year; year after year. 
 
But that really is life...we're not art making machines, we're people; and we make art.  Sometimes there are more important things than doing our artwork.  We are multi-faceted beings, and our artwork is only one facet.  Our other aspects must develop.


It had been 8 freakin' years...my first wife had died of breast cancer.  I was sitting on the sofa maybe a month after she'd passed.  Watching "Roseanne"...


I said to myself, "If I were an artist I'd be upstairs (in my wife's dormant studio) making artwork."  I turned off the television, went upstairs and got to work. 


We return to our art with a deeper experience to draw from; a greater awareness of love, of responsibility, and commitment; and making a more excellent product.
 
Have a little faith, gird up your loins, and believe.  Do you feel that life is crowding art right out?  This is going in a dynamic and profound direction for you.  You will do great and powerful things.  It will work.  You will not fail if you do not quit.  Having responsibilities is not quitting, it is being admirably strong.


You are admirable.  You are strong.  It will show.

Conversation with a Friend

Hey Gregory,

Interesting questions and I don’t like my answers to any of them.

 Not selling anything regularly—some small stuff, prints from the website occasionally, a larger piece a couple years back.  Nothing big.

Collections…nothing too grand for painting:  Richard K. Thomas, a DC journalist (now retired—he was who brought me to DC from northern Michigan).  And a local businessman who bought the larger piece a couple years back.

Because of a strategic alliance in the ‘90’s with Mitzi Perdue of poultry fame, I have samples of my woodworking in some good private and state collections, including Bill Clinton, Lady Bird Johnson, former Chinese premier Deng Xiaoping, former German Chancellor Helmut Kohl, and the Perdues; as well as a jewelry box for CNN news personality Paula Zahn.  But….

Peer group?  No.

Art History?

Absence? 

My interest is in making good work, rather than art history.  As such it probably does more to promote art history rather than actually make art history.  Personal relevance is important, and the process of “making something out of nothing” is key for me.  I believe that we express ourselves out of the abundance of our heart, our core—I know that.  Does that contribute to art history?  It does contribute to the culture…and give meaning to my life and the doing of the stuff that I do…where is art history taking place, Gregory?  Who is it affecting? 

Projecting computer art on the walls of the campus may do more for art history than anything, because it’s that random encounter with artwork—big, unusual, and there in your path folks.  It may actually stick with someone--it may be more memorable than  typical art venue exposure.  I really like the graffiti on the trains that pull through town—same thing of big art flashing by unexpectedly.  A lot of it looks the same but still…I do appreciate it, and seeing it.

As far as “Absence”, what does Joan Mitchell’s work say in her absence?  Sam Francis?  How about James Turrell?  Aha!  And Pollock—Yes!  Warhol—I think I’m catching on….

I’m looking to surprise myself as I create; I believe that the surprise is contained in the finished product and possesses a certain “Wow!” factor.  That’s my deal right now—“look where this one went!”  Maybe create a little intrigue about how it got there….

Interesting questions.  Why do you ask?

What I've Missed

The canvases have been sitting in a corner of my studio for months.  Pretty big units covered with Latex Paint and Hay and set for further development, so I decided to set them up.

I’d been regarding them, sort of; but when setting them up things got serious.  Which way did they go?  I switched them around, turned them over…looked, watched…reset them….

My home studio is big enough to handle these canvases—I didn’t know that before and it’s nice to realize as I gaze.   Whether size matters or not, there is a difference.   To have big surfaces in the studio is such an inviting challenge—their impact is undeniable. 

I begin to pick apart what’s going on between these canvases and grab a brush, starting to work up the line/shape relationships between the two canvases.  Then pause and reflect…this is what I’ve missed.

They take a lot of consideration. I edit out repetition, the irrelevant, and the distracting; hopefully without losing the spontaneity of the beginning phases.  Having killed a number of promising works over the years, I know the heartbreak of losing a strong opening.

Looking, acting, and then watching what has happened (and figuring what is next) is precious.  As the painting emerges, the process is archeological, as well as architectural:  excavating and building.

I love that zone of looking, acting and reflecting on the large scale—that’s what I’ve missed.  The product demands the process...and sure, you can get too careful.  That’s when the original flower of the process dies…sometimes you can blow it apart and regain the elements of power, surprise and delight; but that is also a new work. 

I ended the day knowing what to do next.  I could have continued into the wee hours with this one--clearly there's a long way to go.  Knowing the next step is valuable and a great motivation to get back to it. 

It's the end of a long day in the studio with several projects happening at once, and neither the painting nor I am exhausted.  Its potential is preserved and is in the process of being revealed.  How much of it can be realized and still maintain the full interest?

Here's a short video of day 2 in the process of defining this image, January 8, 2014.


And here's Day 3, the end is most interesting!  Who knew?